When I mention the bombs, coworkers ask which bombs?
I qualify by city, and populate the specifics.

I sign a list of petitions. I forward clips
of the scene: people running very differently,

people speaking very differently.
I track updates beneath a sheet of air-conditioning.

Whatever great pressure pushes down
from the clouds, it does not want life

to be about clarity. Age wasted on the aged.
Wait here. Just be in awe of it.

__

These poems center around the Internet as a sort of apocalypse, its creation an immediate shift in the way we navigate the world. For me, a big part of that is the juxtaposition of immediacy and perspective. I've found myself telling intimate stories in broad context—individual experiences cast against a great expanse of time; personal traumas placed beside public tragedies. I'm interested in how the emotional scale of things is so different from the scale of things.